


tomorrow will be dying

by TrashcanGod



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Spoilers, Takes place in chapter 14, World of Ruin, a more realistic approach to waking up after a 10 year coma, can noct get a fuckin break goddamn, unless you wanna live in denial like me in which case everything is hunky dory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:25:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanGod/pseuds/TrashcanGod
Summary: Noctis woke up in a body that wasn't his.





	tomorrow will be dying

**Author's Note:**

> "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, / Old Time is still a-flying; / And this same flower that smiles today / Tomorrow will be dying."  
> -Robert Herrick, "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time"

The first person Noctis saw after waking from the second coma in his lifetime was Talcott, and the experience was unexpected to say the least.

"You look different."

"Yeah, well," Talcott said sheepishly, "ten years'll do that to you."

Noctis blanched. "Ten years?" he echoed. And yeah, now that he though about it, his voice did sound a little deeper, and his body felt a tiny bit taller with slightly broader shoulders, and the beard on his face was more than he ever thought he could grow. But...  _ten years_. Bahamut had kept him in that damned crystal for a third of his lifetime. He'd left his friends alone, fending for themselves, left in the dark both figuratively and literally, for a decade.

He was only able to half-listen to Talcott as they drove to Hammerhead. Stories of struggles and reports of his friends statuses (alive, thankfully) ran through his head while his brain kept up a running commentary.  _What does everyone look like now? Did they think I was dead? Oh_ Six,  _is that my face?_

Upon arriving at Hammerhead, darker and colder and less inviting than he remembered, Noctis's friends were waiting for him. At least... they sort of looked like his friends. Throughout the night ( _except it's always night now, isn't it_ ), he kept having to remind himself that yes, these really were the same best friends with whom he'd just been on a road trip, and not a group of adults who bore an uncanny resemblance to them.

While the other three were noting with nostalgic melancholy how little Noctis had changed, Noctis could only catalogue all the the ways in which they were different. Prompto's smiles were less ready, and Gladio's less broad. Ignis seemed less uptight in a way, but he'd almost lost that subtle witty humor that kept him from being a total stick in the mud, and Noct hadn't heard a single bad pun from him or Gladio despite there having been at least a couple of prime opportunities. Prompto was less bumbling, and no longer fought like he was stumbling through a dance. He had some sort of over-grown soul patch thing going on, and if he was the same Prompto Noctis knew, it was probably just because he couldn't shave around the curve of his chin without cutting himself.

Except, this wasn't the Prompto Noctis knew.

That, perhaps, was the most jarring thing about this entire situation--talking to Prompto, but feeling like he was speaking with someone far older than him. It felt weird, wrong, and Noctis felt himself instinctively avoiding eye contact for much of their conversations (though he immediately felt guilty for doing so).

The others noticed, and exchanged worried glances (or in Ignis's case, an expression that he instinctively knew the other two were sharing) before Ignis and Gladio both turned in to rest, leaving Prompto and Noctis alone outside of the old beat up camper.

"So... You doin' alright?" Prompto asked, concern leaking into his voice.

Noctis kept his eyes on the plastic table in front of him, because if he just  _heard_ Prompto talking, it was almost like nothing was different. He nodded in response, so that his own rougher voice wouldn't shatter the illusion.

Prompto shifted in his chair. "You... You know you can still tell me anything, right? I mean, I know it's been a long time, but--"

"It hasn't," Noctis interrupted, his thirty-year-old voice forceful and raw with the emotions of a twenty-year-old run ragged. Prompto snapped his jaw shut, staring, but Noctis kept his eyes on the shitty table that'd been sitting there for over a decade and said, "It hasn't been a long time. I talked to you guys  _hours_ ago, but then I wake up in the middle of the ocean and suddenly everything's different, and  _you're_ different, but I'm..." His voice broke, and he clenched his shaking hands into fists.

Both boys (or men, Noctis supposed, but while Prompto had grown into the term, Noctis had remained in stasis) were silent for a long moment, until Prompto breathed, "Shit..." Another pause, while he shifted and regained his bearings. "Yeah, I--I guess that must be kinda weird, huh?"

Noctis snorted, exhausted and mirthless. "Yeah, a little bit." He relaxed his posture, slumped back in his chair, though his eyes remained averted.

"I can't recognize myself anymore," he said wearily. "When I talk, my voice doesn't sound like it's mine, and whenever I walk, my steps feel too long. It's like everything is just barely off, like I'm seeing the world through a fun house mirror." He sighed. Just for this moment, he would allow himself to admit how unfair this was. He would succumb to his exhaustion just this once, before returning to the Chosen King the world needed.

"I didn't sign up for this," he lamented. "This is all so much... I just wanted to get the crystal and take my country back..."

A pause. "You still can."

Noctis turned his head toward Prompto's voice, tinted with hopeful determination that was just barely disguised by his not-quite-lighthearted tone.

"You can still get Lucis back," he continued. "You'll kick Ardyn's ass, take the throne, make the world a better place... and we'll be with you the entire time.

"Well," he jokingly amended, "I dunno if I can speak for those other two assholes, but..." Noctis breathed a laugh despite himself, and Prompto smiled. A small victory. "You're stuck with me, at least. Ever at your side, remember?"

Noctis's lips twitched, a smile that was heartfelt and tender but, upon inspection, heartbreaking. "Yeah," he whispered.

He looked up. Sitting in front of him, with a soft, genuine grin that illuminated the endless night--Noctis saw Prompto.

**Author's Note:**

> "Hey pals, I've got some multi-chapters in the works!" I said. "One of them is a Persona 5 fic!" I said.
> 
> Then FFXV ripped my fucking heart out and said "bitch you thought."
> 
> Here, have a drabble, while I also work on another multi-chapter and FUCKING HOPEFULLY I'll finish at least one of these puppies eventually.
> 
> Dig this? [check out my writing blog,](https://inquisitivelizard.tumblr.com) or even [my twitter,](http://twitter.com/chillbears) where you can find my art stuff.


End file.
